MOVarazzi

Sunday, August 22, 2010

107. Vice

So I have this disturbing habit. Wait, let me back up. I don’t drink (excessively, anyway), I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs, my shop-til-you-drop days are over, I don’t have an eating disorder (unless you consider hoarding m&m’s to be “grossly dysfunctional”), I don’t lie, nor cheat, nor steal……………. But, I have something. Something I do, that, others (maybe you, maybe police officers) might not generally approve of. That’s right: I go in Houses Being Built. DON’T JUDGE ME!!!!!!!!! It’s not like I sought out this “disease”, this crazy “illness”. It’s more like being an alcoholic: hereditary. If your name is Rodney, then you can stop reading right here. My wonderful (in so many other ways) father corrupted me at a very young age: he took me into “houses on the market”. That, as we all know, is just the Gateway Drug into the very appealing “model homes”. The progression continues, and before you know it, you are into the hardcore drugs, the FRAMEWORK stage. My personal heroin? 2 x 4’s. I’m sorry. It is hard to even type this, through tears and sawdust. I’m sorry! I never thought it would get this out of hand! And, like a drug addict who decides to study to become a “doctor” or a “pharmacist” to be able to legally access his filthy and disgusting habit, I, too, decided to study: I majored in Architecture in college. Oh, sure, you say, that’s safe: she needs to look at that framework, because, Gawd, that is what she does! She designs! (What you DON’T know is: I dropped out of Architecture school because it was too…………. difficult. I was getting C’s. Insert sad face here. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish that I had that Architecture degree so I could wave it around in people’s faces and say AHA! They gave me a hard-hat and a compass, and by golly, I am going to use them both! I belong here in this framework because maybe—how would you know—I designed it!) Sigh. Fast forward to my life today: model citizen, local mom, married, working part-time at the high-end kitchen store, pushing 40 (or maybe even 41). I meet new people around Crazy Town. Nice people who just moved in. Nice people, who say things like, “We just moved in, and you have to stop by and see our new house!” How do I tell them nicely: I've already met your house? It's Sunday. I’m out for a run, because that is what I do (besides stalk houses I mean). It’s maybe 8 AM? There’s a “new” house on my radar, and I choose TODAY as the day to check it out (note of interest to fellow “would-be” house abusers: usually Sunday is The Best Day to go into the framework houses because people like to sleep in and also workers have the day off. NO ONE WILL SEE YOU AND REPORT YOU TO THE AUTHORITIES.) I walk up the muddy hill. I do not “look back” because that is the sign of a novice. Never look back. Just go. You must act like You Belong. I lift up the yellow caution tape so I can get in and I laugh internally at the superfluous "No Trespassing" sign. I climb (literally--there are no front outside stairs yet) up to the front porch area. I walk in the front door (natch). Then I immediately switch into hyper-critical-oh-yeah-I’m-an-Architect mode. Huh, would I design things this way? Okay, this must be the front entry. I do like it. I walk through a wall. Lots of closets, that's good planning. Wait, what is the floorplan doing over here? I am not sure what room this is supposed to be: formal dining? guest room? study? These pipes must be for a bathroom, but I thought that over there is a half bath. I don't understand, because the kitchen is on this side, so………. huh. I’m stumped. All right: kitchen. I like this layout. Obviously that spray paint indicates a big center island's going to go in this spot, LOVE the high ceilings and view of the fireplace into the family room, private screened porch is framed off the obvious breakfast area, seems like maybe an expanse of counter over there with a big window and…….. THUMP. THUMP. Oh, f---. Workers? On a Sunday? Yikes! Panic Mode. WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo? This has happened before. Okay, MOV, you know how to speak Spanish. I’m just about to blurt out, “Hola! Que tal? Quisiera ver esta casa que Usted esta construido, esta bien? Parece muy bonita!” I stop and think for a moment. Maybe that thump was just a harmless and cute little squirrel. Or raccoon. Or very large and possibly quite fat bear. A loud and heavy thump sound does not necessarily mean workers? Perhaps my fun self-guided tour can continue after all. I call out a tentative, “Helloooooo?" (short pause.) "Is it okay if I look at your new house?” A lovely blonde woman in her late 30's descends the ladder from the upstairs. Oh, string-of-four-letter-words (Rodney are you still reading?). This lady does not look like a construction worker. “Hi!” I say, ultra-enthusiastically, needing to dial it down a notch, but afraid to. “Hi! I’m MOV, and I’m your new neighbor and you must be the owner! Wow! So great that you are here right now and I get the unexpected pleasure of meeting you! Great house! I’m sorry I’m just, you know, barging in on a Sunday morning, I was so intrigued and captivated, it’s such a gorgeous home!” Okay, what the f---, I am rambling now. “Hello,” begins The Lovely Woman, “My name is Ella. Please don’t apologize, I like to look at new houses, too,” Ella smiles sincerely at me, “in fact, even thought I’m not officially trained as an Architect, I actually designed this house myself.” Now we both smile. She’s a fellow User.

MOV ("Mastermind Or Villain"?)

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